The Last Full Measure
by winterofmint
Summary: As the witches prepare for the assault on Berlin, unexpected pairings and magic issues threaten to derail the operation. Will the witches liberate Europe once and for all?
1. Chapter 1: Not Another Winter Morning

**_Foreword!_**

_Hi! This is directly taken from a RP (roleplay) thread at furrypilots-pub, with me as the original poster (OP). This fanfic is published here with the consent and permission of the other contributors/roleplayers in said RP. However, it is edited so that the story will come out in a paragraph format. Some lines and thread posts are deleted or modified to make the story look better._

_We roleplayers are made up from the =501= squadron from War Thunder, and our IGN and characters we mainly played are as follows:_

_EilaJuutilainen_: Eila Ilmatar Juutilainen, Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke, Erica Hartmann, other roles_

_Francine_Stigler: Francine Stigler (OC), Karlsland and Liberion tank crews, other roles_

__TrudeBarkhorn_: Tina Marseille, Raisa Pottgen, Federica Doglio, Hanna Rudel, other roles_

__Trude_Barkhorn: Gertrud Barkhorn, other roles_

__Sanya_Litvyak: Sanya V. Litvyak_

**_Most minor/semi-major characters_**_, notably Yoshika and Mio Sakamoto, __**were played by everyone.**__ So this truly is a team effort. _

_Since this is taken from a RP thread, be prepared for numerous segues and Deus ex machinas, though the editors tried their best to mitigate their effects. With that said, I hope you'll have a good time reading this._

_Thanks to _TrudeBarkhorn_ for creating some of the chapters (this may explain why the writing style and chapter length sometimes changes abruptly)_

_**P.S**. This was not planned originally to an epic that encompasses most known witches in the SW universe, but that is how it turned out. If you are a Strike Witches canon buff and our information on some witches is wrong, please contact me so I can make the necessary changes. I wish this to fit in with the canonical story as much as possible. Kiitos!_

[***]

**_Chapter One: Not Another Winter Morning_**

Eila Ilmatar Juutilainen woke up with a cheery smile on her face. Life is great, she used to tell herself every day. With a foresight ability that protects her from Neuroi beams, and pranks from fellow witches, nobody could blame her for such a narrow worldview. Not to mention she had become some sort of a celebrity in her homeland due to her unprecedented amount of Neuroi kills. If sleeping with the most beautiful witch in the world (in her opinion anyway), a witch blessed with the most perfect behind (again, it's just her opinion) is nothing short of heaven on earth, then last night she reached heaven itself.

"Oh, Sanya…" she said, mapping her intrepid fingers on the sleeping naked Orussian's hills and valleys. Last night she did more than just that, her curves meshing perfectly with Sanya's as if they were matching pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. As she moved her glance from Sanya's head to toe, left to right, top to bottom, she remembered an Orussian newspaper which labeled Aleksandra Vladimirovna Litvyak as "Orussia's finest".

_"Finest in bed too," _the Suomish thought.

The continuous feasting of her eyes on the night witch elicited a strong feeling of arousal, and the clean white bedsheets were soon stained by drops of crimson.

"Oh, my nose…" Eila remarked, as she reached for the ever-handy box of tissues, kept conveniently under her mattress for "emergencies".

Francine Stigler had joined the 501st Joint Fighter Wing a few weeks ago as a replacement for the veteran witch Mio Sakamoto. Sure, the venerable old Major still hangs around, keeping the commander's office at relatively warm temperatures despite the chilly February winter. But the top brass had considered her status as inactive and summoned Lieutenant Stigler to keep the 501st's fighting strength at eleven witches. Despite her being virtually unknown to the public, as compared to like, say, Erica Hartmann, she was widely respected amongst the ranks for risking her life to save several damaged Liberion bombers out of occupied Gallia on a bombing raid on the 20th of December, 1943. Plus, her ability to turn AP rounds into magical high-explosive rounds meant that she could destroy even medium types with only short bursts of gunfire, making her a valuable asset in confused dogfights, where the need to bring down Neuroi fast was most needed. Her ever-helpful attitude quickly endeared her to the members of the 501st, though she, like all new replacements to an old unit, had to do most menial chores. Today it was making sure that all witches would wake up early, and the nineteen year old blonde Karlslandian took a deep breath before knocking on Eila's door.

*knocks on door*

"Hey, it's 10 o' clock… You two ever gonna come get breakfast?"

Stigler flashed a smile. Sanya's midnight moans were clearly heard from her room, which so happens to be the one right next to it.

_Those two are finally getting together…_

"Who's there?" came a voice from the inside.

"Eila, it's Francine… you two okay? Yoshika and Lynne are cleaning up breakfast…"

"Oh, Francine… We'll be right there in a jiffy!" the voice replied.

Hearing the sound of Francine's footsteps get fainter and fainter brought great relief to Eila, who wanted nobody to see the bloodstained blankets and bedsheets, lest her bed be mistaken for a murder scene. The rigors of last night's activity had drained her energy, and the growls emanating from her stomach just served to confirm that.

"Sanya, wake up…"

She nudged Sanya's shoulder, but the Orussian just groaned and continued her slumber. Eila was used to this.

"Perkele… Guess I'll have to dress you up and drag you asleep again… But just for today…"

Only, she had been saying that for 396 days straight and lying each time.

[***]

Turning a page of the newspaper she's been reading, Gertrud Barkhorn caught a glimpse of the subarctic couple entering the almost empty mess hall.

"About time you two woke up," she barked. "Do you know what today is?"

Eila pretended not to hear the recently-promoted Squadron Leader's words and gently placed the sleeping Orussian on a chair directly opposite where Trude was sitting. As the night witch slumped her head on the table, Eila smiled.

_"So cute…"_

She turned her head to see an irritated Trude staring right at her eyes. Usually in such circumstances she would nod and acknowledge her mistake, but today's Eila was made of sterner stuff.

"Hmph? No morning greeting, Squadron Leader? Gee, what's with the negativity here? I'm having a beautiful morning right now, and I'd like it if you won't spoil it."

Eila's regal tone naturally irked Barkhorn, and she felt like was on the verge of giving her longest sermon in weeks, but she restrained herself and let out a reluctant sigh.

"Fine, I don't want to spoil the snowflake's special morning…"

*claps hands*

"Hell week starts tomorrow then!" Barkhorn declared.

Before Eila could question what Barkhorn meant by that, a laughing Francine came from the kitchen carrying two plates of scrambled eggs.

"Would you quit torturing us, Trude?" Stigler said with a playful smile.

"We're all battle-hardened veterans already, and training's more of Major Sakamoto's expertise." She said as she settled the plates in front of Eila and Sanya.

"And we all know Erica's going to be her normal, playful self during all this."

"Well, at least someone here isn't gloomy," Eila muttered, pertaining to Francine. She then grabbed Stigler's shoulder and whispered in her ear.

"What's up with the Squadron Leader today? The grumpiness is off the charts! I know we're two hours late… But seriously, is that enough to put her in a bad mood on such a fine winter morning?"

"Who knows? Maybe Erica pissed her off? Either that, or she needs to get laid."

Gertrud heard Stigler's whispers loud and clear. To suggest that her current grumpy disposition was the lack of warm nights? Now that's insulting. Revolting, even.

"Hmph! I want all of you ready and dressed by 0500 hours tomorrow!" the Karlslander said as she stormed out of the mess hall, leaving two stunned witches and one half-asleep witch behind. She immediately felt her picture of Chris, which she keeps on her person at all times, and sat on the rails of a nearby balcony. As she felt the cold wind around her face, she thought of her homeland, her family, and most of all, her little sister. She kissed her finger and touched it to Chris's photo, hoping somehow that her kiss would find its way into her little sister's lips, as she shed a single tear.

_Hang in there, we're almost done here…_

_One last battle…_

"Hey, Trude, is that you?"

At the sound of Stigler's voice, Trude quickly wiped her tear with a handkerchief before turning around to face the Karlslander.

"Yes. What are you doing here?" She tried to say that in her intimidating tone, but the memories of the people she was fighting for made her voice sound normal.

"Did something happen?" a worried Francine inquired.

"No…" Trude turned around and grasped the balcony rail, looking at the clear blue sky.

"At least, not yet… I'm just anxious for this shit to end so I can get back to them…"

Before Francine could open her mouth to ask who Trude meant, she saw Trude's hands clutching a picture of Chris and stayed silent. Turning back to face Francine and realizing that she was looking at Chris's picture, Trude slid it back in her pocket and flashed a half-smile.

"I'm not grumpy, I'm just doing this training because where we're going, makes that giant hive in Venezia look like child's play, and I want all of you in tip-top condition... which you obviously aren't."

Francine was confused by what Trude said, surely she implied a battle here. But the front had been silent since the Ardennes Counteroffensive, and the only fighting currently taking place was in the East.

"Wait, what do you mean? Are we getting redeployed soon?" she inquired.

"Yes," Trude said with a sigh. As much as she'd like to divulge the new orders as late as possible, she couldn't lie to the likes of a respected veteran witch like Stigler.

"We're going to be covering the final push on Berlin."

The Karlslander felt a twinge as she heard those words, but anyone taking a quick look at the map would not be surprised; Berlin was the nearest hive from the frontlines and for months, the press had been calling for its immediate capture.

"They haven't picked a date out yet, so we need to get as much in as we can." Trude continued.

Francine smiled. It was the best news she has heard all day.

"So... We're finally going home..."

**_Author's Notes_**

_If you see the reference to a Snow Patrol song, then you sir, know some good music._

_I know it starts out as boring, but only because we can't think of a major plot to drive the story until later. __More chapters will be uploaded._


	2. Chapter 2: The Star Of Afrika

_**Chapter Two: The Star of Afrika**_

Trude smiled, but just a little.

Home... Now that's a word the witches hadn't used in forever. Their "homes" were the bases they were frequently relocated to. She sighed and looked up at the sky again.

"Yeah... This shit's been going on since '39... And now the end is so close you can feel it…" She paused, and shook her head. "But...I'm afraid to see what the price will be…"

"Look, Stigler," Trude continued, "Minna told me not to let you guys know about this yet... I shouldn't have even told you…" Trude turned and looked Francine in the eyes, sternly. "Don't tell the others, alright? We don't need anymore stress on them... "

Francine nodded.

"My lips are sealed…" She patted Trude on the shoulder.

Trude replied, with a weary smile. "I knew you could be trusted... Anyway, be ready tomorrow…"

"Don't worry, I will be…" Stigler said, hoping to mitigate at least some of the Squadron Leader's anxiety.

Trude turned away, forcing a smile. Francine ruffled Trude's hair and smiled.

"It'll be fine…"

[***]

Sanya stirred and squeaked softly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and lifting her head from Eila's shoulder. "E-Eh? How did I get here?"

Eila grinned and grabbed a spoonful of the egg breakfast on her plate. "Sanya! Hyva huomenta! Here, taste this!" The Suomish witch held out the spoon, and Sanya sniffed it, inquiringly. Nobody could blame her for being careful; no one expects a Suom to offer good food anyway. But when Eila told her that it was Lynne's and Miyafuji's cooking, the silver-haired witch took a bite and grinned.

"It's good!"

Eila grinned and patted Sanya's head. _Oh, god, she's overwhelmingly cute..._

Sanya tensed up and looked at Eila questioningly. "What's up with Trude, Eila? She's been really uptight lately..."

"I don't know, really...say 'ahh,' Sanya!" the Suomish said as she offered another spoonful to the petite Orussian. Sanya gulped down the spoonful and Eila chuckled.

"Looks like another mission though." She hesitated, and sighed. "Why don't those damned Neuroi give up? We've already got 'em on the run. As if they could still win this war, anyway."

[***]

Francine headed back into the cafeteria, and plopped down in her seat across from the couple. "So... what'd I miss?"

"Well, I don't know about you Leutnant, but I sure missed Sanya... Oh wait, she's right here, on my shoulder... Hehe…" A sly grin crossed her face, and she kissed Sanya in a not-so-decent way. Francine giggled.

_Those two..._

As much as she would have wanted to quietly admire the two lovers, it was beginning to feel pretty awkward, especially as Eila moved in for a full-blown Gallian kiss.

"Do you two...oh, I don't know, want some privacy?" she inquired.

The sounds of Eila's and Sanya's saliva seems to scream "YES!" to Francine, and she quickly made her way back to the kitchen, her face red in embarrassment and excitement. As she prepared to take another step forward, she felt an unwelcome feeling between her thighs.

_God, they almost made me wet... Time to, ugh... Smoke..._

Smoking seems to lower Francine's sexual desires, which she correctly thought to be very useful when you're living with a bunch of crazy magical teenage lesbians.

[***]

Hanna-Justina Marseille threw her pen onto her desk and slouched down into her chair, groaning.

"Ughhh…paperwork…" She shook her head. A highly skilled witch who took the moniker "Star of Afrika" due to her kill tally of more than 200 large and medium-type Neuroi, she preferred to stay up in the air and leave the mundane tasks, like the paperwork, to her subordinates, who at this time, were still asleep. Well, even if she was the only person alive on her base, Marseille won't be bothered to read a line of the paperwork, not a chance.

"Hm, wonder if I have any mail..." She chuckled and got up, sliding on her boots and walking out of her room. As she prepared to walk through the desert heat into Commander Keiko's hut a few meters away to check the mailboxes for the 31st, she noticed hers was slightly ajar. Reaching in, she extracted a letter. She plopped down in Keiko's chair (a bad habit of hers sitting on superior officer's chairs and such), and tore it open, discarding the paper scraps onto the floor.

"Oh? What's this? A letter from HQ?" Her interest was immediately piqued. "Huh! More action... great…"

Usually she would be hyped up at the prospects of action and adrenaline, but fierce Neuroi attacks on her sector had stepped up the previous weeks and only coming to an abrupt halt a few days ago, leaving the great warrior tired and exhausted. She sighed and read to herself.

_Redeployed...final push...Berlin...501st JFW?!_

A smile erupted from her sand-filled face.

_Hoho, looks like I'll get to see my friends again! _Hanna chuckled mischievously and walked out, letter in hand. _I wonder if the others up in Europe already know about this...might as well find out!_

She sauntered back into her room, grabbing the field telephone from her desk, and dialed up the 501st base.

[***]

Trude was shaken from her thoughts by the cacophonous ringing of the telephone on her nightstand.

_Who the hell could that be…?_

She sighed and walked over, picking up the phone. "Hallo?"

At the first waves of sound from the other end, her attitude immediately soured, and she narrowed her eyes, hissing into the phone.

"You... It had to be you…"

She paused, and sighed.

"Fine, just get your ass over here and leave when it's over, the less time I have to spend around your snobby ass the better…!" Irritated, she slammed the phone down, and walked into the kitchen, taking a cigarette from Francine's pack. Sticking it in her mouth, she grabbed a confused and surprised Francine, using the latter's cigarette to light her own. Grumbling, she stormed off, muttering curses.

T_he hell's up with her? _Francine shook her head and returned back to the mess hall, sitting back down in front of Eila and Sanya, who's just fallen asleep again on the Suom's shoulder after that hearty meal... of Eila.

"Heya, Frans," Eila whispered in Stigler's direction, her face still red from the excitement. "Mein liebe here wonders why there's a gloomy and tense mood all over the base... She can detect it, you know. And 5AM training? 'Hell week?'" Eila paused and gulped. "It could only mean one thing..."

Fran sighed and lit a cigarette. "Ja... Everyone is kinda tense lately..." She paused and leaned in close to Eila.

"There's a mission coming up…" Her voice lowered to a whisper. "We're going to Berlin..." She sighed and leaned back. "Either way... Trude told me that's why everyone's so tense..." She took a drag from her cigarette and closed her eyes.

"Berlin, eh? The home of the great hive... Finally, then we can advance into Moscow after…" Eila then thought of the witch gently napping on her shoulder. Many times in the middle of the night Sanya would squirm in her sleep, waking Eila in the process. Then she would always hear the same words:

"Father... Mother...

"I...miss you so..."

It naturally broke Eila's gentle heart each time; if there was anything she wished for more in the world, it was world peace, but only so that Sanya can be reunited with her parents and finally sleep at night. She smiled as felt a nudge on he shoulder from the half-asleep Orussian.

"Sanya, are you still tired from last night? With this mission and all, we might have to ready ourselves and cut down on our nightly 'activities' for a while." Sanya pouted silently and Francine grinned.

_At least those two aren't uptight as hell..._

[***]

"Hallo! Marseille, Cap'n of the 301st speaking. Who's this?"

...

"Oh, hey Trude! How's my favorite siscon doing? Well, good news, the 31st Joint Afrika Squadron and I are headin' north tomorrow to help out with the Berlin thing. Isn't that awesome?"

...

"W-wait, Trude-" The phone clicked, and Hanna frowned. _Well, as much as I like to mess with Trudie, hehe Trudie, I like that name, that was unwarranted...looks like Europe's turned the siscon into a bitch as well, who woulda imagined?_

_Whatever. I still want to see her again… _Hanna shook her head and laid down on her bed, preparing to take a nice, short nap. _She may antagonize me, and I may antagonize her, but we're all Karlslandians here…_

In the back of her mind, Marseille was lying to herself. It wasn't just that they were both Karlslandian witches, or that they were both the greatest aces of humanity, or that they were problematic comrades at JG 52 a long time ago. No, it was something more deeper than that, something more intimate.

_Ugh... I can't leave it at this...! _Hanna thought as she jumped out of the bed and hurriedly rang up the phone again.

_Damn you, Trudie, answer it..._

**_Author's Notes_**

_I had originally planned to make chapters of around 4000 words each, but at least with shorter chapters, we can churn out at least one chapter per week. Stay tuned! _

_Thanks to _TrudeBarkhorn_ for the draft!_


	3. Chapter 3: The 501st's base

**_Chapter Three: The 501_****_st_****_'s base_**

Gertrud walked into her room feeling no remorse as she left the phone ringing. The impending mission and the new duties of a Squadron Leader – this was already putting up overwhelming stress to the young woman. Then, here comes this vainglorious megalomaniac to ruin the last vestiges of peace and order at the 501st JFW's new castle-base near the city of Münster. At least Francine's premium cigarettes from Southern Liberion taste exceptionally good, and takes away at least some of her troubles.

"I am going to do _very_ bad things to Marseille if she tries anything…" she muttered as she slammed the door shut and sat at her desk, taking a huge drag then slowly blowing it out.

_Ah, full flavor…_

The fact that she couldn't hear the phone ringing anymore was a bit of a silver lining, as she stared at two big piles of paper on her desk. Always punctual and never someone to procrastinate, she stretched her arms and buckled her hands.

"Time for work," she said, spoken like a true Karlslander.

[***]

"Well, I guess you two finally hooked up?" Francine inquired, through the literal tongue-twisting that she saw earlier and the shrieks of "Oh, Eila!" from last night were still implanted on the back of her head made her question redundant. Still, she felt she had to ask.

"Ah, um, yeah…" Eila sheepishly crossed her fingers. "Were you watching…?"

Francine's face grew red and that unwelcome feeling found its way into her more private regions again.

"R-Relax," Stigler said, though she herself was having difficulty doing just that. "E-Even if I didn't, I figured it once I knocked on your door this morning…"

Without warning, her brain began picturing what might've happened the night before.

She quickly lit another cigarette from her pack and instinctively offered Eila another, but the Suom politely declined.

"I don't smoke, nor drink. Don't need those when I've got Sanya."

Francine sighed as she retrieved the cigarette back. Eila was absolutely lost in blissful paradise.

"Well then…" she said as she stood up. "I'm gonna go and check my gear… And keep your mouths shut, though, about the Berlin mission… Trude told me not to spill to anyone."

Eila let out a chuckle. "And yet you did."

As she left for the hangar, Francine made a promise to herself to not anymore say unnecessary things. A great warrior is never noisy nor full of gossip; she knew when and where and what to speak. She knew that loose lips sink strikers. Now that didn't rhyme, but it sure made sense. Finally reaching the hangar after a brisk two-minute walk, she flipped the light switch on and one by one the grand array of neatly-arranged strikers soon shined under the lights. She smiled at the sight of her own Striker – one of the first perfected versions of the Me 262; given to her by General Galland herself. Gleaming under the hangar's bright lights, the gray Striker was a sight to behold, with a superb performance to boot. Enabling its wearer to reach speeds of up to 900 kph and the ability to carry up to two MK 108 30mm autocannons or 37mm Bordkanones, or one 50mm Bordkanone; finally equipped with an engine which did not require humongous magical consumption, it was by far the best Striker in the 501st's arsenal. Cleaning her Striker would take her mind off thinking what repercussions of her spilling the beans about the mission to Eila, she thought. But hey, Barkhorn spilled it on her too, so it was just a fair game.

Carefully inspecting the 262 inside and out, she was irked off by a thin layer of dust on the outside – it had not been used since she transferred to the 501st, after all. Like all Karlslandians not named Erica Hartmann, she was a total neat freak and she quickly opened a nearby cleaning kit and proceeded to wipe off the dust and grime off the jet. Unlike most people and most maintenance workers on the base, cleaning (her) stuff gave her great joy, and she lost track of the time; painstakingly removing every speck of dirt and tuning the engines to perfection. It was way past sundown when she had finished putting Mr. Clean to shame with her Striker in pristine order and looking like it was fresh from the production line; the number 3 on the sides of her 'White 3' Striker were as white as white could be.

"Wow, it got late…" Francine chuckled as she glanced on her wristwatch. Glancing at the sky to see if it was the case, the night scene reminded her of her time in JG27.

_Wonder what Hanna's up to; we used to do this way back in '42… Took us all night to get the sand out of our gear and Strikers once, and it was on a bright full moon just like this one…_

Remembering the good 'ol days induced a giggle from the veteran witch; she knew she'll be turning 20 this year and along with it, her powers and the thousands of those fun little things a witch does like cleaning her own Strikers… Well, for most of us it isn't fun, but for Francine it is. Get over it.

Her growling stomach soon put an end to her reminiscing.

"I've almost skipped dinner."

[***]

Two thousand miles away on an airfield near Alexandria, Squadron Leader Hanna Marseille stands on a makeshift low wooden stage as she prepares to address the members of the 31st Joint Squadron Afrika.

"Thank you, Kei," she motioned to squadron's commanding officer, Fusoan Squadron Leader Katou Keiko. The witch nodded.

"Righto, girls," she continued, "Tomorrow at dawn, we're relocating to the 501st Joint Fighter Wing's base near the city of Münster, Karlsland! So rest well tonight, prep your gear, and make damn sure you're not falling asleep in mid-flight. We ain't stopping for ya."

Pilot Officers Raisa Pottgen and Inagaki Mami nodded their heads in agreement and Marseille soon dismissed them, seeing that no further questions were asked.

As the other witches were busy taking the sand off their pillows, Hanna sat down on a foldable wooden chair outside her tent and calmly admired the bright full moon. The night was cloudless, offering a clear view of the dark blue sky, and the veteran witch was soon lost in her thoughts. She remembered calling up for three straight hours the same channel where she and Squadron Leader Barkhorn had conversed earlier in the day. It took no stretch of the mind to conclude that "Trudie" was purposely not answering the phone. As she left the chair and laid herself down on the sand, an unexplained feeling swept up from under her own heart. The one witch she regularly had clashed heads with and almost knocked her out during a terrible fistfight during her days in the JG52 suddenly felt closer. That witch she no longer saw as a lamentable siscon but as a noble warrior fiercely protective of her family and country. She wondered why her views on Gertrud Barkhorn had changed. She now looked at the field telephone, wistfully wishing for it to ring.

But it was not a sudden development; this feeling crept up from inside her ever since she visited the 501st's base in Romagna more than a year ago. As the cool desert wind breathed on her face, she felt at home lying in the sand dune and closed her weary eyes.

_Oh, what will tomorrow hold…_

[***]

"Hey, Sanya…"

Eila yawned as she tried desperately to keep her eyes open. She had been awake all day, in stark contrast to her new official girlfriend, who pretty much slept until 9 in the afternoon.

"Shouldn't we be going back to the base already? It's already 3 in the morning…"

At those words, Sanya turned her head left, and then right, scanning the nearby stratosphere with her neon green Liechtenstein antennas. Certain that no hostile craft was around, she looked at the half-asleep Suom with a smile.

"Yes, let's—"

Suddenly, her antennas turned red, which could mean pretty much only one thing.

"Neuroi!" Eila now felt awake, itching for a noble chance to show her love by defending her girlfriend and padding her already impressive kill tally. She turned the safety off in her MG42 and pulled back the bolt, making the gun ready for action.

"Where are they? Let's take 'em!"

Instead of being pumped up, Sanya frowned at Eila's suggestion. "No, it's fine, Eila," she said. "They're too many, and they don't know we're here."

Eila was a bit confused by her partner's passive stance, surely she and Sanya could take on any number of large-type Neuroi. Hell, she believed she can do it herself if it was for Sanya's sake; there was nothing she won't do to keep her beloved safe. But when she glared at the young witch's green eyes in an attempt to figure out what was going on inside Sanya's mind, she saw nothing but concern. Then, she realized—

_Sanya didn't want to fight not because she didn't believe that we can take them on, but because she knew that I am tired…_

"And I'm sleepy," Sanya continued, doing a fake yawn to validate her point. "Let's just report this to the base."

But Eila had seen through her ruse and was swelling in gratitude. She wanted to protect Sanya; now she realized Sanya wants to do the same for her. Without warning, she grabbed the Orussian's shoulder to pull her close, then gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Eeehh?!" was the only thing a surprised, blushing Sanya could say as Eila pulled herself back.

"Thank you, Sanya," Eila said, smiling. "Yeah, let's go back to the base."

The pair then performed a Split-S while holding hands, and soon found themselves above Essen, adoring the sleeping city.

[***]

"What the fucking hell—*coughs*"

Hanna felt like she was she was stuck in an hourglass – sand on her left, sand on her right, sand above her, sand below her, sand covering her whole body, and sand even inside her nose and mouth. Yeah, her tongue felt rather sandy. Well, of course. She had slept in the middle of a damned desert. Duh.

"Damned sand…" She grudgingly sneezed her nose and spat all over the place to clear her insides of sand, and brushed the sand off her hair and uniform with her hands. As she even felt sand inside her chest and her more private regions (who in their sane mind would sleep out on the desert in their panties anyway?), she began laughing loudly to herself.

"Haha, it's like that one night, when our Strikers—"

She remembered that incident also happened on a full moon, and she smiled.

_I wonder if I'll be able to see Frans again… It's been years, hasn't it…?_

Stumbling back into her clean, cozy, and sand-free tent, she opened a drawer underneath her desk, revealing some magazines, pamphlets, and a pack of premium cigars from Southern Liberion.

_Funny… I still have this pack of cigs from her. I never did smoke them, did I…_

Time for a smoke, Hanna thought. Just as she was opening the pack, her mind conflicted itself.

"Nah, it's a keepsake."

As if she was handling a family heirloom, she gently placed the cigarette pack back inside the drawer and closed it. Glancing at her watch to learn that it was three in the morning, she yawned, then took off her sand-infested clothes and fell asleep on her bed naked.

The next morning, Hanna awoke to the sound of Raisa's gentle, yet distressed, voice.

"Wake up, Tina—!"

"Mmm… what? Oh, Raisa…" Hanna grunted and rose up, wiping her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"It's time to go…! We're late!" Raisa exclaimed, before running out of the tent red-faced, most probably at the sight of Hanna's naked body.

_Time to go…?_ Hanna thought, eliciting a look at her watch.

"Oh, man, we've gotta go! Wait up, Rai!"

_Well, I'm coming, Trudie._

[***]

Francine stretched her arms as the sunlight entered her room through a large glass window and landed on her scar-covered body. Shot down a record 17 times, she felt the lingering effects of her previous injuries and let out a small yelp. Realizing that the sun had risen and no Trude nagging at her door, however, she smiled as she dressed herself in her uniform which looked a lot like Erica's. It was joked by Shirley that the difference between the two was that Francine had numerous scars, was taller, and had her long blonde hair in a ponytail.

After dressing up, she made her way through the mess hall. Some Fuso food would be nice, she muttered, but remembering that today is a Saturday, and thus, Yoshika and Lynne would wake up late, that hope soon turned to dust. She'd have to make her food herself.

"Huh," she remarked after seeing Trude staring at her plate of Eisbein, ostensibly struggling to finish it. Trude being irritated in the morning was no means an uncommon occurrence, but Francine saw worry in those amber eyes, and sat down beside her in an attempt to comfort.

"Morning… What's wrong?"

Trude gave out a sigh, then a straight face. "I was going to call Hanna back…"

_Call Hanna back?_ Francine then remembered the phone ringing for three hours straight and nobody bothering to answer it due to Trude's orders.

"I figured I was… mean to her yesterday." Trude continued, trying to look emotionless.

_Now this is turning interesting…_ Barkhorn and Marseille's rivalry was well-known not only to the witches, but to the public. Always ready to knock the other down to the ground if an opportunity arises, the possibility that one would be worried about the other was as distant as the moon. Well maybe the moon isn't that far, after all.

"Well, why don't you call her now?" Francine asked.

"Nah," Barkhorn shrugged. "She'd probably be over Venezia by now." She stood up and made her way to the exit. "I'm going to the hangar."

"Trude, aren't you going to finish your meal?" Francine said, in a somewhat loud voice, but received no response save from the sound of fading footsteps.

_She even forgot about Hell Week…_

The blonde then thought about making Karlslander sandwiches for Miyafuji and the others, when the distinctive sound of Strikers broke the early morning silence.

_Strikers? They're here already?_

She grabbed a sandwich and went out the hall.

[***]

"Wow…"

Hanna could not believe her eyes as the 501st JFW's castle-base at Nordkirchen came into view. Known as the "Versailles of Westphalia"; its elegance and splendor rivalled that of the famous Gallian palace. With halls three stories high, it was surrounded by a square moat and colorful gardens. Three passageways connected the castle to land, of which the middle one, the biggest, was converted into a runway. The hangar situated in the courtyard looked weirdly out of place within the Baroque structure, but such was the castle's grandeur that it did not blemish its appearance greatly.

"They must be having quite a life there… And we're stuck with tents, snakes and insects in Afrika…" Kei grunted.

"Relax, Kei!" Hanna said, playfully smacking Kei's arm. "This'll be our home for a while."

The 31st Joint Afrika Squadron landed gracefully, with Marseille leading the way. Their khaki outfits and brown strikers did not match with the lush greens and reds of the gardens flanking the hangar, but they felt a strong feeling of home as they gazed at their surroundings. Raisa and Hanna were both Karlslanders, while the peaceful scene reminded Mami and Kei of the forests of Fuso. Their tranquil daydreaming was broken by an affectionate female voice.

"Welcome to Schloss Nordkirchen, operating base of the 501st Joint Fighter Wing."

It was Oberst Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke at the hangar entrance, with Major Sakamoto Mio in tow.

"How's the flight, Squadron Leader Marseille? You made it here earlier than expected. I hope you're not too tired." The red-haired witch asked.

"Commander Minna," Hanna saluted. Minna returned the salute. "Nah, we're not tired. Seeing trees all around is a relief compared to endless seas of sand in Afrika…" Hanna continued. "But we're hungry, though…"

Minna chuckled. "Our mess hall is always open. Just enter the main hall, turn left, then you'll see some stairs. Then go right down the corridor and you're there. Now if, you'll excuse us, we'll have to deal with the higher-ups about the mission details. Mio?"

"Yes, I'll call you girls when it's all figured out." came the reply from the Fusoan. "Good to see you here, Kei. Your witches can park their strikers at the hangar."

Kei smiled as the 501st's commanding officers left. "Now, girls, we'll park our strikers in this order—Tina, where are you going?!"

"Off to the mess hall. I'm hungry. Later! Rai, park 'Yellow 14' for me. Danke!" Hanna called out, already running off.

"More like she wants to see someone…" said Raisa softly. "She's been calling at this base for hours yesterday."

"She wants to see someone?" Kei asked, scratching her head. "Hartmann, maybe."

[***]

_Right down the corridor, right down the … _"UMPH!"

Marseille felt somewhat concussed by the impact, but when she regained herself four seconds later, she found herself pinning someone on the floor.

"Who the damn hell?!" roared an angry Barkhorn, her fists knuckled up and ready to strike. But when the dust cleared and the face of the assailant became visible, an embarrassed blush showed up on her face.

"Oh, hehe… Hi, Trudie." Marseille sheepishly said. Their lips were so close they almost seemed like they were kissing.

"Uh… H-Hey, Hanna…" Trude replied, stammering.

"Hallo! Long time no see! Hehe. You're blushing, Trudie."

"Eh?!"

Francine felt like she had chanced upon the two at the most inopportune moment; she blushed and almost choked on her sandwich for a second.

"Should… I give you two… some time…?" she said, covering her mouth and trying not to laugh and giggle and choke and all of the above.

"Ugh, get off me—" Trude said, pushing Hanna off. She stood and promptly fixed her ruffled jacket. Turning to Stigler, she shouted, "Hell Week is still on! Just… delayed."

"I figured." Francine sighed. She also figured more talking with Trude might make things worse, so she turned to Hanna instead.

"So Hanna," A calm voice and an outstretched hand were offered to Marseille. "How's Afrika been?"

Hanna grinned and embraced her former squadron mate. "Francine… Long time no see!" She let go of her embrace then kissed the witch on the forehead.

"I was thinking about you last night, heh." She said as she held Francine by the shoulder with both hands.

"R-Really? Why, me too, I was cleaning my Striker last night; it reminded me of our Afrika days." Stigler was now blushing; she had no idea that Marseille had thought often and highly of her. If she did, it was well veiled until now.

"Afrika's been quite hellish. We're seriously understaffed. But good thing that trusty 'lil Raisa is by my side…"

"So is here in Karlsland. We could have used you during Operation Varsity. Fighting Heavy-types around Wesel was utter hell…"

"Damn, I'm so glad to see you!" Hanna said, her hunger fading away.

"Yes, me too." Francine smiled. "Now I heard you stayed behind in Afrika after JG27 pulled out…"

Trude felt a sharp pain in her heart as Stigler and Marseille lost themselves in conversation, leaving Trude behind as if she was not there. An impulse told her to apologize to Hanna, but another part of her mind would not relent; she did what was right, she followed the rules, so Marseille must be the first one to say sorry for all her actions. But seeing Marseille smile joyfully had the unexpected effect of softening her hard heart. She reached her right hand for Hanna's arm.

"Hanna…"

She was rudely interrupted by the deafening sound of air raid siren, and red lights began flashing all over the place. The loudspeakers soon came to life.

_"This is Minna speaking! A formation of Heavy-types and a ton of escorts are heading straight for us! All available witches, sortie now! We are under attack! This is not a damn drill!"_

"Well, shit happens." Francine shoved the last bit of toast in her mouth. "Let's go."

"Can never catch a break now, can we?" Marseille grunted. She prepared to run towards the hangar but she hesitated after seeing Trude's outstretched hand.

"Huh, Trudie? What is it?"

"Ah, erm, no, nothing…" Trude meekly withdrew her hand.

_I guess it'll have to wait._

**_Author's Notes_**

_Finally made a regular-sized chapter! But this means this fic won't be updated weekly as planned. Oh, well._


End file.
